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I know how this is going to end. Amanda’s taller and more athletic. Jessie picked a fight she can’t win.
Amanda lunges, and the dispenser clatters onto the island as Jessie loses her grip when she jumps back. Amanda snaps up a kitchen towel and Jessie curses, weaponless.
Celia and Evie break into cheers as the chase winds around the island twice. I sit on my barstool in the middle of it, pretending I’m engrossed by an email.
The whipped cream dispenser is right next to me and my fingers itch. Jessie and Amanda have reversed direction, slowing down, with Jessie walking backward, getting closer to me, her hand out like she’s going to reach for it.
I should stay out of this.
“Now, Amanda,” Jessie says as her sister twists the towel for a good snap. “Why don’t we take this outside—”
My fingers close over the whipped cream dispenser. Given how hard Jessie shook it before, it should be good to go.
“—and settle this with a friendly snowball fight?”
Jessie is alongside me. It’s too easy. I hold the dispenser out and press the nozzle. Whipped cream hits her on the cheek, splattering all over her face, and landing in her hair.
Jessie freezes, eyes wide, face striped with whipped cream.
Amanda doubles over, howling with laughter. Everyone’s laughing, Evie jumping up and down, demanding a turn.
Jessie’s not laughing. She turns on me, slowly. “You shot me in the face.”
Her choice of words sends heat creeping up my neck. She wipes a handful of whipped cream off her cheek. I pick up my coffee and fight the urge to grin.
Jessie moves, but not toward the dispenser I’ve still got a death grip on. Nope, she wipes that handful of whipped cream all over the side of my face and into my hair. I jerk back, my too-hot coffee sloshing over my mug and into my lap. With a hiss, I leap to my feet, plucking my jeans away from my body.
“Sorry,” Jessie says with a wince as Amanda hands me her kitchen towel.
“Are you all right, Nic?” Celia asks, concern knitting her brows. “I have an ice pack if you need it for your penis.”
Celia sayingpenislike that makes me cringe.
Evie giggles. “If you need it for your D.”
“I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth. My damp jeans are rapidly cooling and I lucked out with most of the hot coffee missing sensitive areas.
“That’s lucky,” Jessie says. “Every model in LA would go into mourning if you scalded your dick off.”
I glare at her as whipped cream drips down my face, but I can’t say she’s wrong—not exactly. It’s been months since I’ve had sex but before that…I slept with a lot of women and quite a few happened to be models. I’d like to think I’d get a few sympathy texts, but the sex was meaningless and I never slept with the same woman twice, so I doubt I would.
Celia sighs when her stern look goes unnoticed by Jessie, who’s complaining about whipped cream in her hair. “Go clean up, you two. I’ll keep your breakfast warm.”
We’ve only got one shower and the moment our eyes meet, I see Jessie has realized it too.
Celia’s startled laugh follows us as we race out of the kitchen. My longer legs put me in the lead and I take the stairs two at a time, Jessie hot on my heels.
We disappear into our respective rooms and meet again, bursting into the bathroom from our separate doors. Jessie’s too winded to do anything more than point at me and shake her head. She’s a fucking mess, whipped cream streaked in her hair, smeared on her face, her chest heaving from the race up the stairs.
I want her so badly I have to clench my hands at my sides. “What happened between us was a mistake,” I tell her, pissed at myself all over again. We wouldn’t be here like this if I hadn’t had a lapse of judgment in the laundry room.
Jessie puts her hands on her hips, still trying to catch her breath. “Right. You tripped and fell face-first between my thighs. Total accident.”
“I said a mistake, not an accident!” I scrape at the stubble on my jaw. My face is sticky from drying whipped cream.
“If you want to pretend things never happened, fine. If you hated every minute of it, that’s your problem. I enjoyed myself.” Jessie pulls her sweater off, tossing it onto the floor. The bra she’s wearing today is covered in little red bows, a tiny one nestled between her tits. “The first shower is mine.”
“You get the second shower.” I reach back to pull my shirt off. Jessie watches me, her eyes narrowed but not so much that I can’t see the simmer. My dick is already thickening, pressing against the cold wetness of my jeans.
